Queen for a Daze
by William Easley
Summary: The Gnomes have come to ask a favor of Mabel: Can she be their Queen? Just for a few hours? Sounds like fun. Yeah . . . .
1. Chapter 1

_I do not own the show GRAVITY FALLS or any of the characters; both are the property of the Walt Disney Company and of Alex Hirsch. I make no money from these stories but write just for fun and in the hope that other fans enjoy reading them. I will ask, please, do not copy my stories elsewhere on the Internet. I work hard on these, and they mean a lot to me. Thank you._

* * *

**Queen for a Daze**

**(July 29, 2017)**

* * *

**1: How About a Little Favor?**

Mabel wondered if it were karma, but probably, she decided, it was just Gravity Falls. Jeff asked if he could talk to her that Saturday afternoon, and it turned out he had a special request.

When she heard him out, she said, "Jeff, I told you before—I'm a girl and you're Gnomes, and besides, I'm practically engaged, so no, I can't be Queen of the Gnomes. Anyhow, I thought you guys had decided to create a republic. Aren't you Prime Minister now?"

"Right, right," Jeff said. "But you didn't understand. When I asked you to be Queen, I wasn't asking you to be a real Queen, just a pretend Queen. Dipper says you're into acting, and we need a Queen just for one day. For reasons."

"I don't think so," Mabel said.

Wendy, lounging against the snack-bar counter, said, "Hear him out, Mabes. I'm curious. What's the deal?"

"Well, you know, there are Gnome colonies kind of all over," Jeff said. "Ours is the best, but we've got lots of, I guess you'd call them cousins, in tunnels and burrows all over the place. Even in Europe. And, um, someimportantforeignGnomesarevisitingandexpectustohaveaQueen. Um."

"Slow down, slow down!" Mabel said. "Some foreign Gnomes—"

"Important foreign Gnomes."

"Are visiting and expect you guys to have a Queen?"

Jeff shrugged. "Well, yeah. These guys are real traditionalists, you know. They're from Alba. There will be a bunch of them. They came to the New World and they're making a tour of Gnome settlements. We, uh, we're kind of on the questionable list already because we don't live underground any longer, so if we don't have a Queen to show them, it'll be like a disaster."

"What's at stake?" Wendy asked.

"Our reputation?" Jeff asked.

"Baloney," Mabel said. "I know you guys. There has to be something more than that!"

Jeff grimaced and lowered his voice: "OK, OK, don't let the others know I told you. It's a trade thing. These guys are from a miners' colony, and they produce the best firestones in the world. They've heard of our jams, and there's a chance we can make a trade agreement—one firestone for a load of jam would make us rich—"

"Dude," Wendy said, "What's a firestone?"

Jeff scratched his head. "It's a gem, you know. It's the core of a Gemulet. Those are special stones that can—what's the word? Copy? Record? Store Gnome secrets and spells. They're really rare. The Cairngorm tunnels produce the best in the world. But we're afraid the Alban Gnomes won't trade with us if we don't have a Queen. So just for this afternoon and tonight, we need somebody to play the role. They'll leave at midnight, and if the deal goes through, we'll send a trade mission to them—they won't be coming back."

"So . . . " Mabel said, her mouth pooched so much that it looked like a 3, "After midnight tonight, I'm off the hook? For good?"

"Well, yeah," Jeff said. "We just need to razzle-dazzle 'em this afternoon at the reception and then tonight at the banquet."

"And I get to wear a crown?" Mabel asked.

"Absolutely! The traditional tiara, like the one Queen Badger wore, but your size. We have one made up from the time when, um, we had a temporary human Queen."

"Whoa, time out!" Wendy made the referee's fingers-to-flat palm gesture. "I'm not sure I trust you little guys. This crown won't do weird stuff to Mabel's brain, will it? It won't, like, hypnotize her or enslave her or—"

"No! It's not _magic_," Jeff said. "It's just an emblem of the office, that's all."

"What if I gave commands?" Mabel asked. "Would you have to do them?"

"Um—depends," Jeff said. "We couldn't, oh, give you all our wealth because we're businessGnomes now. But if you wanted to do some for show, like 'Fetch my royal robes,' then, yeah, we'd obey those."

"Do I have royal robes?"

"I don't know," Jeff said. "We don't, none that would fit you, but if you have your own—"

"OK, I'll think about that. Now," Mabel said, "most important: If I do this for you, what's in it for me, Mabel?"

"Well—you'd have our gratitude."

"Oh, sure, that and five bucks would buy me coffee at the Caffeine Addict," Mabel said. "Something more substantial, maybe?"

"We have a big stock of Gnome jams—more than we need. We could—"

"I'm callin' a big no on that one," Wendy said. "Mabes already nearly OD'd on that one that made her buff up. And I think there's one called Boob Berry Jam or some deal that she doesn't need to sample. Gnome jams do bizarre things to people."

"Um—well, we've got a small stock of gemstones," Jeff said. "Not all that many, because we haven't been burrowers for a thousand years or—whoa, sorry, the human term is a _hundred _years or more, old habit. Anyway, we've been tree Gnomes for a long time, those of us who are Civilized, and the Ferals that have joined us lately were more concerned with surviving than mining. But we could give you maybe a nice assortment of small sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and opals. They're little, but great quality. How about two each? You could have earrings made from them, like the one you gave to the fairies."

"How'd you even know about that?" Mabel demanded. "That was private!"

"Um, word to the wise? Never tell a fairy a secret. Not a one of them can keep her mouth shut."

"There's fairy guys, too," Wendy pointed out.

Jeff shrugged. "Habit again. It's like you guys and cats—every one's a she unless it proves different. We see a lot more girl fairies—they're the messengers and workers. The males are mainly drones."

"Anyway, I'm kinda peeved at that fairy," Mabel said. She thought for a minute, smiling. "You know, it would be kinda nice to act a role again. What time would you need me?"

"Two suns west," Jeff said.

When Mabel looked puzzled, Wendy said, "That's about two hours before sundown, Mabel. When the sun's two times its height above the bluffs."

"So—when's sunset?"

"Not as late as it was in June. I don't know. Eight-thirty, eight-forty, something like that."

"OK, so we'd be off work . . . "

"Like we're working now," Wendy said. It had been a lean day for a Saturday—probably because there was a huge festival going on in Portland, and that was stopping tourists coming in from the west. "Things don't pick up, and I bet they won't, you could take off right now and not be missed."

"Now" was five past three. Mabel said, "I could do something with my hair, and I could figure out some kind of costume—is the costume shop still open?"

"It's still there," Wendy said. "I suppose it's open until like five or so."

"Come with me and help me pick out a Queen outfit?"

"So you're gonna do it?"

"Yeah, but—hang on!" Mabel dashed out of the snack bar.

Wendy said, "No tricks, Jeff. Get me?"

"No tricks!" Jeff said. "I swear by Grubthorn's Hammer!"

"Yeah? What's that?"

"It's what we swear by!"

Mabel came running back in with a pen and a pad—decorated with pink piggy faces smiling out at the reader. She scribbled hastily:

* * *

_I, Jeff the Gnome, Prime Minister of Gravity Falls Gnomes, solemnly agree to reward Mabel Pines eight gemstones for her acting out the role of the Gnome Queen in a one-time-only performance. If we do any funny stuff to her whatsoever, we agree to suffer her wrath. And Wendy's too. And never eat mushrooms again!_

* * *

Jeff read through it and gulped. "You drive a hard bargain!"

"I've been stung before. Those are the terms, and that's our contract. You sign it, Wendy witnesses it, and I countersign it! You know what a contract is, right?"

"Oh, yeah." Gnomes had the sense that runes—and hence all writing—were sacred. In their waste-disposal and pest-control businesses, they signed contracts and had never once failed to carry them out to the letter. On the one occasion that a customer, a greedy farmer, had reneged on paying them, they didn't take him to court, but used his farm as the dumping grounds for all the mice, rats, wasps, and other vermin they captured in the whole Valley. He paid up, convincing the Gnomes even more that words on a page were something inviolable.

With some difficulty—the pen was large in his hand—Jeff wrote out the runes that spelled his name and them made the special squiggle that was his personal signature.

Wendy wrote in her name and after it WITNESS. Finally, Mabel signed it. "I'll make you a copy of this," she said. "But I hold the original! Hey, can you hang out here until like five?"

"Sure," Jeff said. His troupe of dancing Gnomes did their last act from four to four-fifteen, and ordinarily he left with them.

"Good. We'll hit the copy store after the costume shop. Come on, Wendy, we'll take my car. I'm gonna be the Queen!"

"I think we ought to tell Teek and Dipper—" Wendy said.

"Tut-tut-tut," Mabel said, giving that sort of dismissive back-hand wave that royalty does. "My dear, we women are the real movers and shakers. No need to involve the drones!"

"Well," Wendy said, "I hope you won't regret this."

Mabel raised her car keys defiantly. "I regret nothing!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Queen for a Daze**

**2: Fit for a Queen**

**(July 29, 2017)**

* * *

Mabel had been in Lon's Look-a-Torium before. It was a long shop wedged between a barber shop and a pet store. Once upon a time, Wendy told her, it had been a general-supply store for loggers, back before computers and online ordering. Nowadays the local hardware store took care of most of the tools, and as for jeans, flannel shirts, and tough boots, well, Lon's still stocked those, but not a huge amount.

The present owner, Lon (presumably) had bought the place around 2000 and had turned it into a work-clothes shop, but that took up only a few racks, so the rest of the big space had become a used-clothing and costume shop. The walls were aged brick, the ceiling was cracked plaster, molded into incongruously decorative shapes—urns and grapes and such—in the corners. The two dressing rooms/restrooms, unisex, were late additions and stood in their own odd little wood-paneled walls about halfway down.

Mabel had bought a few things here before—a denim jacket for embroidering, ski caps for her Grunkles, which she had decorated, things like that. Lon also stocked offbeat items, outdated ones like bow-biters (plastic capsules that would contain a toddler's shoelace bows to prevent untying), laundry bluing, stuff like that. Mabel liked the smell of the shop, cotton and linen fabric and denim and old-fashioned pine-scented floor-sweeping compound. The place wasn't really narrow, but it seemed that way because it was just a cavernous space that ran back the whole length of the block.

Now she headed past a few second-hand clothes shoppers back to the Party, Theatrical, and Masquerade section. It had a rack full of compact theatrical makeup kits—meant for students, and not professional level, but good enough for Halloween or for a masquerade party. Mabel had a much better kit at home in Piedmont—she'd persuaded Dad to spring for a Ben Nye Master Production set when she won the part of Eliza in Piedmont High's senior play, _My Fair Lady_—but she found a reasonably priced Ingenue kit that covered the bases and bought it for less than twenty dollars. As for clothing—

"We gotta find something that doesn't just look good under stage lights, but is also impressive close-up," Mabel said. "Got your wallet?"

"Whoa! Aren't you buying your own dress?" Wendy asked.

Mabel raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, but what about yours?"

"Huh?" Wendy blinked. "Me? Oh, no. No, no, no! Bad idea, and I say this as someone who's seen lots of your bad ideas, Mabes. Leave me out."

"Aw, come on," Mabel wheedled. "A Queen has to have a Lady in Waiting. Besides, I'm not really comfortable going into this by myself without a leaf blower along."

Wendy crossed her arms. "I am not carrying a leaf blower—"

"You got your axe," Mabel said. "That's even better. So you'll want something with a cape so you can sling your axe under it—"

"Mabel! I'd look ridiculous!"

"Think of it as playing a role," Mabel said. "Come on. I'll bet we can find something lovely in green!"

Arguing with Mabel when she had made up her mind was like rowing a boat up a waterfall. After a while, you just gave up. Mabel sensed that Wendy was weakening, and when she found a very pretty silk chemise that went well with a low-cut floor-length emerald-green gown with gold trim, Wendy sighed and said, "Well . . . ."

She tried it on, and Mabel said that it was so close to Wendy's size that fifteen minutes with her sewing kit would make it a perfect fit. "Try this, now," she said, handing Wendy a cape that matched the gown in color, but was a lightweight faux fur. It hung down to Wendy's hips.

Wendy looked at herself in the long mirror on the side of one of the dressing-room cubicles. "I look like a refugee from a Renaissance Fair," she muttered, but she was smiling.

"You look divine," Mabel said. "We'll find a choker or some necklaces and maybe some ballet flats instead of your boots—"

"What's wrong with my boots?" Wendy asked. "They wouldn't show!"

"Ha!" Mabel said. "When Erich von Stroheim directed _Foolish Wives, _he bought hand-made underwear for the extras that cost like a thousand dollars a pair! It didn't show, but it made them feel like they fit the parts!"

"How'd it do that?"

"Because the underwear fitted_ their _parts! So you need dainty dancing shoes."

"Wait a minute," Wendy said. "I'm not gonna have to dance with a pile of Gnomes, am I?"

"Probably not," Mabel said.

"Good. Because a girl has her limits."

Mabel went for a rich-looking lavender court gown, and in the used costume jewelry department she found a shiny gold (colored) tiara. She also found a raggedy faux-fur white stole. "I can cannibalize this for a great collar!" Mabel said. "Great! I'll buy us a few costume rings and necklaces, and then we can hurry back to the Shack—I've got some furbishing and decorating to do!"

Mabel's purchases came to over a hundred dollars. Wendy's were nearly a hundred. "Man," Wendy complained, "I can't believe I'm paying this much for a getup I can wear only once!"

"You could say the same thing about a wedding dress," Mabel said smugly as they piled their purchases into the trunk of Helen Wheels.

"Huh!" Wendy said. "I'm gonna go to the courthouse in my flannel shirt, jeans, and boots!"

"Yeah, but for the real deal—you're gonna want to wear a bridal gown," Mabel said confidently. "Because your dad."

For a few minutes—indeed, almost all the way back to the Shack—Wendy sat silent. Then she smiled and said softly, "Yeah, you're right. For Dad. And for Dipper. I want to look as good as possible for the church version. Help me with that?"

"What are Maids of Honor for?" Mabel asked grinning because she'd won. Wendy was in her corner now.

* * *

Dipper stood next to the doorway of the parlor. Soos, Melody, Abuelita and the kids Harmony and Little Soos waited expectantly. Stan sat in an armchair, looking resigned. Teek stood with an uncertain expression on his face. Beside Stan's chair, Tripper curled up, dozing.

"Can't we get this show on the road?" Stan grumbled.

From offstage, Mabel called, "Ready!"

Reading from a notecard, Dipper said, "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Lady Wendy de la Forêt Verte—"

"What?" came Wendy's voice. "Mabel!"

"Shh! Just means "of the greenwood! It's a good title for you. Go, go, go!"

Wendy, holding her skirts delicately, walked through the doorway, blushing. She muttered, "Sorry, Dipper."

However, everyone gasped. Little Harmony cooed, "Ooohh!"

Abuelita said, "She looks so _encantadora_!"

"Very nice," Teek said. "You look like you stepped off a movie set."

Stan drew in a deep breath. "Wendy, you're—you're beautiful!"

And Soos said, "Whoa, dawg!"

Dipper blinked, his mouth open. Wendy had braided her hair and in lieu of a crown or tiara, she wore a thin circlet of silver with an emerald gleaming on her forehead. Mabel had applied her makeup—and though Mabel had a whole kit at her disposal, she also had an artist's eye and a light touch. The foundation, highlights, shadows, lipstick, and eyebrow pencils had just enhanced Wendy's appearance. "Too much?" Wendy asked Dipper in an uncharacteristically timid voice.

He took her hand and, smiling, said, "Not at all." But telepathically, he told her, —_You're so gorgeous!_

In the hall, Mabel coughed. "Queen's waiting here!" Hearing her voice, Tripper looked up expectantly.

Dipper let go of Wendy's hand and read from the card again, though his voice had somehow become an octave higher: "Presenting her highness, Mabel the First, Queen of the Thousand Gnomes!"

And Mabel sashayed in, her eyelids lowered demurely, her hands concealed by elbow-length white gloves. She raised the right one and did the queenly wave. "Hello," she fluted. "We are sooo heppy to see our loyal subjects. You need not bow."

Soos laughed. "Dude, if I didn't know you were Mabel dressed up like a queen, I'd really think you were a queen that looked and sounded like Mabel."

"You look very regal," Melody said.

Tripper softly woofed in agreement. Probably. Hard to tell even with a smart dog.

Harmony laughed and ran up to Mabel and just stood with wide eyes and a wide smile, staring up at her. "Mabel?" she asked in a small voice.

"Indeed, Harmony, it is me. It is I. Which one, Dip? They both sound weird to me now."

"It is I," Dipper said. "When the verb is _to be _it's followed by a predicate adjective, or a nominative noun or pronoun. It's not an object because—"

"Tut-tut-tut!" Mabel said airily. She twirled around. "Guys, will this do?"

"Sweetie," said Stan, "you look queenier than any queen I ever saw! Good job!"

Soos spoke up: "The Gnomes will be, like, bowled over. Wait, is that, like racist? Tats told me this one time that people used to catch Gnomes and use them for bowling pins or some deal."

"We know what you mean," Mabel said. She produced a scepter—she had made it by sawing about a third off an old ebony cane and gluing a glittery Christmas-tree ball to the end. "Teek O'Grady, you may come forward!"

Teek, smiling, approached her. "Mabel, you did a great job."

"Kneel," Mabel said regally.

"Uh—what?"

"Come on, peasant, kneel before the Queen!"

"Go ahead, dude," Wendy said. "We all know this is Mabel."

Teek got down on one knee. Mabel leaned forward and tapped first his right, then his left shoulder with her orbed scepter. "I hereby dub thee knight. Rise, Sir Teek de la Cabane Mystérieuse!"

"Dip?" Stan called.

"I think she's saying, 'of the Mystery Shack,'" Dipper told him. "But she struggled with French—"

"Sir Teek!" Mabel said, overriding her brother's voice. "You may kiss your Queen discreetly."

He did, and then he said, "Listen, Mabel, please be careful tonight, all right? I mean, Jeff's OK, but you can't always trust Gnomes."

"Their hearts are in the right place," Mabel assured him. "It's just that sometimes they don't understand human ways, and vice-versa. Don't worry. I can handle them. And if I need help—Lady Wendy, show them!"

With a fluid movement, Wendy reached beneath her cloak and produced an antique, but dangerous-looking axe—the one she had inherited from Archibald Corduroy, the axe that could not only chop down an Earthly tree but could do considerable damage to any paranormal or extradimensional threat.

"I think Mabel's pretty well defended," Dipper said. "Sis, listen up: Teek and I are gonna follow you part way to Gnome territory. We'll stop where the trail goes downhill past the faerie realm, but we'll be within calling range. If you need help, just yell out—"

"One condition," Mabel said. "Kneel, younger brother!"

"Mabel!"

No use to protest. Dipper knelt and arose as Sir Dippingsauce de la Journaux Secrets!"

"Should be 'des Journaux Secrets,'" Dipper corrected as he started to rise.

Mabel bopped him—not hard—on the head. "Thy fix is accepted, Sir Dippingsauce! My knights must serve their Queen well. And my Lady in Waiting, too!"

"We'll do our part, your Highness," Wendy said dryly. "Just make sure you don't the Gnomes or whatever. I like the little guys, and I'd hate to fight them."

Dipper pulled a chain from inside his collar. From it dangled a silver whistle. "We won't have to," he said. "I have a secret weapon."

"Tripper's dog whistle?" Soos asked. "Does it work on Gnomes?"

"It works on Gnomes," Dipper assured him, sounding just the least bit like a tranquilized Bobby Renzobbi, the TV pitchman. "They can't stand the sound."

"Yeah, that's one thing that Gideon taught us," Mabel said. "OK, it's getting close to time. Are we ready?"

"I guess," Wendy said. "I still feel silly, though."

"Think like a princess!" Mabel said with a smile. "Then you'll feel like one, too!"

"Teek and I will give you guys a head start," Dipper said. "About five minutes after the Gnomes come to escort you, we'll trail along. I'm going to bring Tripper, just in case. If they drag you off somewhere—"

"They won't," Mabel said confidently. "I got a Wendy!"

"But if they do," Dipper finished, "Tripper can find you."

"So be it," Mabel said. "Tripper, come and kneel. Oops, little problem there. Sit."

Tripper obediently did as she said.

Mabel touched him lightly with the scepter. "Rise, Sir Tripper des Oreilles Velues. That one right, Brobro?"

"Close enough for government worth," Dipper said. That was one of Stan's sayings.

"Now all we have to do is wait for the Gnomes," Mabel proclaimed.

As if in response, soft taps sounded as someone quite short knocked on the gift-shop door. The Gnomes had arrived.


	3. Chapter 3

**Queen for a Daze**

**3: Practice Makes Prefect. Uh, Perfect.**

**(July 29, 2017)**

* * *

Like Mabel and Wendy, Jeff and his five accompanying Gnomes had dressed for the occasion.

"Dresses?" Mabel asked, giggling.

"These," Jeff Said haughtily, "are the traditional Gnomish formal wear. Robes of honor."

Well, OK, but to the humans it looked as though Jeff and the others had donned pleated floor-length (which wasn't hard, admittedly) dark-gray dresses with a double row of gold buttons down the front and epaulettes—without tassels—of the same material. "Very handsome," Wendy said.

"You have taste," Jeff replied, smiling as he looked the two girls over. "Well. You two look—different. It's OK, I'll explain to the delegation that being human, you are clad in the height of royal style."

"We are!" Mabel said. She waved her sawed-off cane and Christmas ornament. "See this? It's a scepter, fella! It shows I'm a Queen!"

"Shmebulock," said Shmebulock.

"He's right," Jeff said. "He says the Gnome Queens of Old had a similar sign of office. Only it was heavier and had nails poking out of the end."

"I like that idea!" Mabel said, her face lighting up. "Hey, Dip, go see if Stan left his Louisville slugger in the closet upstairs!"

"Not me," Dipper said. "I don't want to drive nails into his bat!"

"That one you've got is fine," Jeff said, waving his hands. "You won't need to hit anybody anyway. I hope."

"I got a scepter, too," Wendy said, pulling her axe.

Shmebulock's eyes widened and he swallowed hard. "Shmebulock!" he said. Then he whistled.

"He says that's the most regal thing he's ever seen," Jeff said, though he had turned pale. "Uh—just a little suggestion? Let Wendy carry the one with the ball, and you carry that one? It would impress our visitors more."

"I got another one she could carry," Wendy said. "It has a silver edge."

"Shmebulock!"

"Uh—silver, queenly, he's all for it. But hurry!"

"Just a sec."

Wendy dashed to her room and returned with the axe that Dipper had arranged to be silvered on an occasion when they were facing paranormal threats. She always kept it oiled and polished, and it gleamed, looking beautiful and very fatal. Wendy sheathed her own axe, gave the silver-edged one to Mabel, and said, "Why don't we just leave the scepter if the axe will do?"

"Agreed," said Jeff.

"Ree! Ree! Ree!" said Mabel, chopping the air. In a queenly manner.

"Shmebulock!"

Jeff, who had been almost mesmerized by the sight of Mabel wielding the axe, said, "He's right, we should go soon. Uh—excuse me for asking, but you humans can't teleport, can you?"

"No," Wendy said. "We gotta hoof it."

"Um—" Jeff whispered to Shmebulock, who nodded and took a small corked bottle from somewhere inside his robes.

Jeff offered it to Mabel. "Take a swallow of this, and you gain the ability to teleport, but it'll wear off around sunrise. It's safe, humans have done it before. Only you'll have to hold my hand—Teek, will that make you mad?"

"Depends," Teek said.

"Well, it's just for the trip there and then back. See, you have to know how to go between the lines to teleport, and there's not enough time to teach it to them, so I'll be the guide, that's all. One hand to Mabel, one to Wendy. Is that OK?"

Dipper and Teek conferred briefly. "It's OK," Dipper said, "only Teek and I are gonna be close to your gathering place. We'll stay out of sight, but within calling distance, just to be sure nothing happens to our girls."

"Fair enough, fair enough," Jeff said, starting to look and sound a wee bit frazzled. "Are you going to walk—?"

"Golf cart," Teek said.

"Then you should leave now. Hide the golf cart in the bushes off the track and be very quiet until our business is over."

"Kiss us goodbye!" Mabel said.

Teek and Dipper kissed Wendy and Mabel. Uh, not respectively, but you probably got that. Then they left.

"One swallow?" Mabel asked, eyeing the dark green liquid suspiciously. The vial contained maybe a couple of tablespoons of the stuff, no more.

"Just one. Half the bottle. Leave enough for Wendy."

"Through the teeth and over the gums, look out stomach, here she comes!" Mabel tilted the little bottle and gulped approximately half. It tasted like cinnamon tea would if you brewed it with some burnt rubber and a couple of garlic cloves. "Augh!"

Jeff frowned, counting quietly: "One mushroom, two mushroom, three mushroom . . . ." He got to ten and then said, "Test drive. Hold my hand."

Mabel, considerably taller than she had been at twelve, had to bend way over. Jeff's small hand felt warm in hers. "Close your eyes," he cautioned.

She did, her ears popped, and she opened her eyes in a forest bathed in late-afternoon sunlight filtering through the leaves. "Neat! Where are we?"

"About a mile from the Shack, in the middle of the woods. That's what you call Cold Creek down the hill. Let's go back. Close your eyes."

"Do I have to?"

"Um—no, but it may be disorienting."

Mabel grinned. "I like disorientation. Let's go!"

This time her ears popped again, and the world blurred before her eyes before steadying itself in the parlor of the Shack. "Whoa-ho, I like, I like! Could I do this myself?"

"No, don't try! You'd need training," Jeff said. "You have to visualize where you want to be, very carefully, sense where you are, and then use your willpower to make the change. It takes a Gnome about a month to learn it. Give the bottle to Wendy. Let her drink."

"This isn't gonna make us drunk or anything, right?" Wendy asked, taking a sniff and wrinkling her nose.

"No! The potion gets drunk, not you!" Jeff said.

"Oh, well." Wendy glugged down the rest of the potion, making a_ yack _face. Jeff counted, and then he said, "Let me take both your hands. OK, steady, both of you. It's a little bit trickier with two."

"Wait," Mabel said. "Could we ask to go somewhere, anywhere?"

"I suppose," Jeff said, sounding uncertain.

"Paris, France!" Mabel said. "Can you do that?"

"Sure. Distance doesn't matter," Jeff told her.

"_Allonsy_!" yelled Mabel, who passed French, but not with the highest grade in the class. Her ears went _poum_!

* * *

"Pretty," Wendy said a second later.

And so it was. In Paris, full night had fallen, of course, and they stood on the dome of the Pantheon, gazing out over the City of Light. As narrative convention demands, they saw in the distance the gleaming Eiffel Tower, so you know they were really in Paris. Jeff said, "OK, gotta go back now. Wendy, I forgot to tell you, close your eyes—"

"Got it. Let's go."

"Aw," Mabel said.

They popped out of existence in Paris and back into it in Gravity Falls.

* * *

In the darkness, neither Mabel, Wendy, nor Jeff had noticed that near them a passionate couple had been locked in an embrace, obviously believing themselves alone. Tourists are not permitted up there late at night, unless they have ways of sneaking up, so the gentleman and lady had presumably slipped up there for a little clandestine _tête-à-tête_, as the French say.

He murmured, "_Est-ce que je viens de voir deux reines et un ornement de pelouse là-bas?_" He had one of those husky, purring voices, like Alan Rickman.

She said, _"Je n'ai rien vu. Allons à l'hôtel. Je veux faire l'amour passionné."_ If she whispered in a priest's ear, he'd immediately begin to talk gibberish.

He nuzzled her neck and whispered_, "Oui ma chérie. À quelle heure votre mari reviendra-t-il?"_

Tilting her head back and sighing, she whispered, "_Dans une heure ou un peu plus_."

He said, "_Merde! Dépêchons-nous!"_

Fast as they hurried, they got back to his hotel many minutes after Jeff and the girls had returned to Gravity Falls.

* * *

"Whoo!" Wendy said. "That's a great way to travel."

"Now we have to get to the Sacred Clearing," Jeff said. "Shmebulock, you and the others go on first. Tell the Gnomes that Dipper and Teek will be nearby, but that's all right, and have everyone leave us a big clear space in the center of the circle."

"Shmebulock!" An instant later, he and the other four Gnomes who had come with Jeff vanished.

"Let's give them a few seconds," Jeff said. "Gnomes know how to avoid materializing where anything solid is standing, but humans don't have that knack. If we teleported there and a Gnome happened to be in the spot where you appeared, it wouldn't be pretty."

"We'd combine?" Mabel asked. "Like in that fly movie? Wicked!"

Jeff gave her a puzzled glance. "No, you'd knock each other off your feet. Gnomes hate that."

"We humans aren't crazy about it ourselves," Wendy said.

Jeff gripped their hands. "OK, should be clear now. Here we go!"

Once more Mabel's ears popped, and when she opened her eyes, they stood not very far from the same track where years before the Gnomes had tied her down the way the Lilliputians (not the golf-ball guys, who are Lilliputtians) had tied down Gulliver. However, they were a few yards away from the track, standing in a clearing where crowds of Gnomes had formed around a circle marked by Gnome lights, which look like tiki torches but instead of fire they glow with a pure greenish light that's cool to the touch. Also, they're only about waist high.

The Gnomes cheered. Jeff waved them to silence. "OK, it's going to be dark in a few minutes. Where's Winziger?"

"Here!" The Gnome that they had met in the Crawlspace waved from the crutch of a tree. "Ready!"

"OK, Mabel, Wendy," Jeff said, "when the Gnomish delegation gets here, you will be on the dais there—that mound of earth. The stone is Mabel's throne. Wendy will stand behind it at your left shoulder, Mabel. The guests will be facing you, where I'm standing. They're going to speak in Old Gnomish, so for most of it, I'll act as translator. They might expect you to say a few words in the language, but there's no time for you to memorize them. Look up in the tree. See Winziger?"

"Hi, Win!" Mabel said, waving. The Gnome, who had not donned a formal robe but instead wore his old gray pin-striped business suit, waved back.

Jeff explained, "He's got a luminous chalk. He'll write what you need to say phonetically, and you just read it off. Let's try. Winziger, write a simple greeting!"

On a blackboard that blended in with the dark woods so well that Mabel had not noticed it before, Winziger wrote _Binati vinit, aspechi_.

"Mabel, read that aloud."

Mabel did.

Jeff's smile became a little glassy. "Um, that way it sounded like you warned them beans would make them fart. Let's try again. The i's sound like long e's. One more time."

Concentrating, Mabel said, "Bee-natee vee-neet, as pechee."

"Better," Jeff said. "Win, change the last letter for her."

Winziger erased the final i and replaced it with a y.

Jeff said, "One more time."

Mabel said, "Bee-natee vee-neet, as pechy."

"Much better!" Jeff said. "Granny, what did you think?"

An old, old female Gnome, leaning on a cane and accompanied by a seeing-eye squirrel, stepped forward from the crowd and called, "I understood every word. _Welcome, guests_, she said. Her accent is acceptable. We've been parted from the homelands for so many generations that we all speak Gnomish with an accent."

"OK," Jeff said. "I'll explain that you aren't fluent, so that's all you'll have to say, really. Remember the words, but Win will write them again when the time comes. I'll translate what they say for you, and Steve here—come on up, Steve, you'll be her counselor—Steve will translate when I can't because I'm talking to them."

Steve politely tipped his red cap. "Ma'am," he said.

"Hiya," Mabel said. She raised the silver-edged axe. "Want to be a knight? I can dub you! Ree! Ree!"

"Um—pass," Steve said, sweating a little. "But that's a neat queenly weapon."

"Thanks!"

"Mabes," Wendy said softly, "you sure that potion isn't messing up your head?"

"I feel fine!" Mabel said brightly. "Like I won't need to sleep for three days!"

In her cracked old voice, Granny Gypsum said, "I sense the approach! Prepare!"

All the Gnomes around the edge of the circle took a couple of steps back. Most of them seemed to be holding their breath. Mabel sat on the stone, chin high, concentrating on being royal. Wendy took her place at Mabel's left shoulder, and Steve insinuated himself between them. "Can you both hear me?" he said softly.

"Loud and clear," Mabel said.

"Yep," Wendy said.

Jeff stood beside Mabel, on her right. "This is where the Prime Minister stands, traditionally," he told them. "Yeah, I can feel it now too. Any second now—"

And with a soundless dull flash of light, there they stood, twelve Gnomes in mulberry-colored robes. The instant they appeared, they all smiled through their distinguished gray beards.

But then they caught sight of the Queen.

To Mabel's surprise, they no longer looked friendly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Queen for a Daze**

**4: Negotiating, Axes Included**

**(July 29, 2017)**

* * *

One of the newcomers—he looked older than the others, and like Granny Gypsum, he walked with the aid of a staff a little taller than he was—stumped forward two steps, pointed straight at Mabel, and growled, "_Ke naibi est-ast?"_

Jeff bowed so low that his nose practically brushed the ground. "_Biztiao unrath, acest est Reinja nust, Mabel, e si ocrutoriea, Wendy_!"

Steve said softly, "The delegation chief wants an introduction. Jeff says Mabel is our Queen and Wendy is her, um, protector."

"Good," Wendy whispered. She casually drew her axe, and the whole twelve-Gnome delegation took a step backward.

Mabel produced her own axe and wielding it as if it were a wand, stole a glance up at Winziger's board. She said, "_Binati vinit, aspechi!_"

The visiting Gnomes murmured and looked uneasy. Jeff turned toward Mabel and said so quietly that she practically had to read his lips, "They didn't expect you to know the language. Good!" He turned back as the chief delegate cleared his throat.

Grudgingly, the visiting Gnome bowed, though pointedly he didn't bend as far as Jeff had, and then as he rose, he said gruffly, "Di'l inati Reinja d'turturo nomitor, salus bentru farit nus'ri miki!"

The Gravity Falls Gnomes all began to mutter. Steve said, "He says he brings greetings from the High Queen of all Gnomes to their lesser kin."

Mabel said, "Jeff, translate this for me: We welcome our brother and sister Gnomes as equals."

"Um—" Jeff began, but then his expression grew determined. He repeated what Mabel had said in Gnomish. He turned toward her, bowed, and said, "I also told them you would speak our local language so all of the Gravity Falls Gnomes can understand."

"Good job!" Mabel said. Up in the tree behind the visitors, Winziger hastily printed something, and she repeated the phonetics: "_Reinja-ti est moltimata_!"

Steve said, "You said 'Your Queen is pleased.' Good. Both sides think you're talking about them!"

The visitors briefly conferred, and then, with a neutral expression, the oldest of the delegation said to Jeff, ""_Saartim giariti. Pechinka-ni Reinja ta_."

"He wants to be presented to you," Steve explained.

Jeff said, "_Spon-mi nomile e mochi_."

Steve said, "He's asking for their names and ranks. Remember the leader's."

The leader murmured to Jeff, who turned to Mabel. "This is Counselor Fandolskurt."

Mabel inclined her head. "Fandolskurt. We greet you on behalf of the Gravity Falls Gnomes."

Jeff looked pleased, and he translated: "_Fandolskurt, va salvati en nomilez nomitori_ Gravity Falls."

In rapid succession, the eleven other Gnomes stepped forward and were named and introduced. Mabel couldn't keep track of them all, but she nodded and smiled at each. However, the very last one—he was younger, with a dark brown beard—looked disgruntled, and he blurted, "_Est-as a giomba_?"

Not all the Gravity Falls Gnomes spoke the old language, but enough did that they began to mutter angrily. Steve said, "He asks if this is a joke!"

The youngest visitor pointed at Mabel and demanded, "_Femja ominaska! Es-ti o virtis Reinja_?"

Rapidly, Steve said, "Human girl! Are you a true Queen?"

Winziger, who looked upset, wrote a series of phonetics. To give him time, Mabel rose, setting her face in a mask of insulted dignity. And then she read, "_Siga! Ke kirza, skurta?_" Smoothing her robe and sitting on her throne of stone, she asked from the corner of her mouth, "What the heck did I say?"

As though trying to hold in laughter, Steve said, "I sure am! What did you think, Shorty?"

"Win knows me well," Mabel whispered. At the same moment, as the other Gnomes from a foreign place held a quick, heated, whispered conversation with the youngest one, Wendy held her axe at the ready, running a thumb over the keen edge and smiling in a deadly sort of way.

"Hey, Jeff," Wendy said. "Tell 'em if they don't accept Mabes as our Queen, they can fight us."

"Not yet," Jeff said. "They're telling Nomnotz to calm down. Let's see if they decide to be reasonable."

There followed a conference between Counselor Fandolskurt and Jeff, in rapid Gnomish.

Steve said, "I can't follow it all, but the whole delegation has to agree to bargain with us, and Nomnotz—he's the one who was impolite—is refusing. He says you have to prove you're worthy to be a Queen. In the Old Country, Gnomes choose a female warrior to be their Queen most often—"

"Hey, Jeff!" Mabel said. "Can you spare a tree?"

"_Sta-chi_?" Jeff asked, blinking.

"Wait, what?" Steve translated.

Jeff shook his head. "Sorry, got carried away with the Gnomish. Wait, what?"

"Can you spare a tree?" Mabel repeated. "I want Wendy to do a logging demonstration for them. That OK?"

"Um—well—this is the Sacred Clearing, but the trees aren't sacred. Uh—how about that great big pine? We don't build in pines, and that one's starting to lean. It'll fall soon anyway."

"Wendy, you up for this?" Mabel asked.

"I'm a lumberjill. I'm OK," Wendy said. "Say the word."

"OK, Jeff," Mabel said. "Tell them my protector here was trained by me and that I didn't teach her everything I know. Tell them she'll demonstrate her skills and strength."

Jeff did.

"Clear the crowd away from that side," Wendy said. She walked to the tree, circled it, and then said, "I'm going to fell it so it falls parallel to the track. Mabes, say the word."

To Steve, Mabel murmured "What's the word for go?"

"_Inkip_," Steve whispered.

Mabel rose again and raised her axe-scepter high. "Everyone watch!" she yelled. "Wendy—_inkip_!"

The axe was no ordinary axe, and Wendy was no ordinary girl. Even in her court dress, she looked formidable, the blade flashing five, seven, eight times in less than five seconds—and with a creaking groan, the pine, a tall one, toppled, the boughs swashing down.

For a few seconds the onlookers, Gravity Falls Gnomes and foreigners alike, looked on, stunned. Wendy hadn't even broken a sweat. She twirled the axe like a baton and slipped it back into its scabbard as she returned to her station behind Mabel.

Nomnotz's mouth worked for a few seconds before he found his voice. "Rakhes! Ar pataskinig-asi o nomilis sutka!"

Jeff turned and bowed to Wendy, saying softly, "He says, 'Oh, shit! She's strong as a hundred Gnomes."

Counselor Fandolskurt spoke forcefully to Nomnotz, who was pale but resistant. He shook his head.

Before getting any translation, Mabel said, "Tell Fandolskurt that my champion will fight his champion. And his champion should be the youngest among them. If we win, then they'll bargain."

"OK," Jeff said. "But let me try something." He strode forward, and the foreign Gnomes pulled small pickaxes from their belts. "That's their traditional weapon," Jeff said without looking around. To the delegation, he said, "_Akum kempiata Reinjask nustri vava lupta be tuta dintroda! Kastijatores optin averta be kar-si dorsk. Se atonk, piadrask mortji_."

A few of the Gravity Falls Gnomes cheered. The foreign delegation shifted uneasily. Steve said, "Uh. He says 'Now our Queen's champion will fight all of you at once. The winners will get the deal they want on their terms. And then they'll kill the losers. Uh."

A panicky-looking Nomnotz shook his head and dropped his pick. He said something to Fandolskurt, who bowed and announced, "_Li rezbekta Reinjua-ti. Cha-ne inkiern trepurli chi apo trebul, cha ne diskbartins. Vam snemi dokomes_."

Jeff, all smiles, turned back to Mabel. "They offer you their respect, Queen Mabel. They ask us to begin and quickly conclude our business. They're eager to return. Winziger will prepare the document, we just have to agree on how many gems we get for each shipment of jams, and then we'll sign the agreement. Uh, say _Azkase fi_!"

Majestically holding up her axe, Mabel shouted, "_Azkase fi!_"

Then the Gravity Falls Gnomes flooded into the Sacred Clearing, clasping elbows with the foreigners, laughing, and offering them food and drink.

* * *

A Gnome party would be memorable if anyone could remember anything following one. Generally short-term amnesia is the order of the day. Steve guided Wendy and Mabel in choosing refreshments—which meant cold water and a few of the cakes and nuts.

"I don't suppose you're partial to roadkill possum?" he asked. "No? Most humans aren't. Not the little crackers with the grayish-pink paste, then. Ooh, but here are some walnuts, they're fine. And these are little cookie-like things, flour, fresh eggs, butter, honey, and huckleberries . . .."

After an hour of noisy eating, the Gnomes broke into a dance, capering around to the music of Gnomish instruments. It sounded like a cross between Robbie's band tuning up, a traffic jam, and cats mating. However, Fandolskurt asked Wendy to join him, and the two of them did a step all their own, circling each other and doing at least one dos-si-dos. Then bowed, Wendy curtsied, and he said something that Jeff translated: "You are the Spirit of the Forest," he told Wendy. "He fears you and respects you."

Wendy grinned. "Tell him he's a smart guy. And say I thank him for the dance."

"I thought you weren't gonna dance with Gnomes," Mabel teased.

"I said not with a pile of 'em. One's OK. And I've watched 'em dance in the Shack often enough to be able to fake it a little."

Then, not long before midnight, Jeff called for all the Gravity Falls Gnomes to surround the clearing again as witnesses. Winziger brought out a book—a real book, to the evident surprise of the visitors, who still used stone or wood and chisels for the most part—and showed them how to inscribe runes with a pen. And not a quill pen, either—a Montblanc fountain pen, very expensive, and impressively large in a Gnome's hand. Winziger had not been a banker for nothing. Fandolskurt looked suitably awed as he runed his name.

Jeff gave each Gnome a basket of small earthenware pots containing an assortment of jams as samples, and he arranged for a courier to visit Gravity Falls once every three full moons for the formal exchange in trade.

At last Fandolskurt made a long address—yawning, Steve said, "Political blather, you don't want to know"—and all the visiting Gnomes clasped elbows with Jeff, getting ready for departure.

However, an embarrassed-looking Nomnotz hesitantly approached, bowed to Mabel, and then, with a sorrowful face, extended his pick, head downward, as if wanting her to take it.

"What do I do?" Mabel asked.

Jeff said, "He's surrendering. He won't oppose Gravity Falls Gnomes any longer."

Mabel took the pick but as Nomnotz turned to go, she grabbed his sleeve. "Tell him I honor him for wanting to protect his people. And I return this in the name of—of—"

"Equality," Wendy suggested. "All Gnomes are created equal."

"Yeah, that's it!"

Jeff translated, and Nomnotz knelt before Mabel—a low, low bow—and Mabel lightly touched his shoulder with the flat of her axe. "Tell him that's the seal of friendship."

Rising, smiling in a confused way, Nomnotz turned and hesitated.

But his friends laughed and cheered and waved him forward. He joined them—and with a silent flash, they all vanished.

"Whoo!" Wendy said. "That's over."

"Here you go," Jeff said, handing Mabel a leather bag. "There's your gems. Think of us when you wear them!"

"Oh, I'm not going away," Mabel said. "'We'll still see each other. I'll be back in Gravity Falls every summer!"

"And we're glad of it," Jeff said. He turned. "Gnomish cheer for Queen Mabel the First, everyGnome!'

In the distance, near the golf cart, Teek and Dipper had been sitting on a log. They had been able to hear the sounds of voices and music, but not enough to understand any of the words, and they were, to tell the truth, a little tense.

"I love Mabel," Teek said, "but she can get in trouble without meaning to."

"Tell me about it," Dipper said. "Sometime when she's in a good mood, ask her to tell you about the biology lab incident when we were freshmen in high school. They were finding frogs in the school for a week!"

Then they both turned their heads as the sounds of cheering came from down the trail. Teek relaxed. "Sounds like it's ended OK," he said. "Are they going to teleport back, or should we—"

Dipper stood and took out the keys to the golf cart. "Let's go offer them a ride home," he said. "I'm glad that's over and done with.

But it wasn't. Not quite.


	5. Chapter 5

**Queen for a Daze**

**5: Just No Telling about Teleporting**

**(July 30, 2017)**

* * *

Close the door.

OK, these kids are nearly eighteen and even older, right? So it's not like they were twelve and fifteen or some deal. They've been through puberty and come out the other side, is what I'm saying. So . . . just don't be shocked, OK?

The truth is that Dipper had begun having erotic dreams when he was somewhere between thirteen and fourteen. Not every night, but now and then. Sometimes they featured a warm girl in the darkness who didn't speak, but more often they starred a certain red-headed daughter of a lumberjack.

So . . .

After Teek and Dipper drove the golf cart to within a hundred feet or so of the Gnomes' Sacred Clearing, they climbed out and walked down the trail. It was dark, but Dipper had his handy flashlight, and ahead the light-green glow of the Gnome torches gave them a goal. "Smells like pine," Teek said.

"Yeah, I think Wendy must've chopped down a tree." His flashlight beam found the big new-fallen pine. "That one. I thought I heard a crash."

"Dipper! Teek! My Knights of the Round Mabel!" Mabel yelled. "C'mon in! Uh, Jeff, it's OK if they come in now, right?"

"Oh, sure," Jeff, who looked sort of happily dazed, said, raising a mug high. "The merr, the morier! Or something. I am gonna be so sorry tomorrow."

"I guess it went OK, huh?" Dipper asked, putting an arm around Wendy's waist.

The redhead yawned. "Yep, they got their trade deal or whatever. And I'm about to drop. Take us home?"

"You sure you don't want to televise?" Jeff asked. He rubbed his red nose and frowned. "I meant telegraph. No, no, Telemundo!"

"Teleport," Winziger suggested quietly.

"That's the one!" Jeff said. He sat down on the ground suddenly. "Whoops."

"It would be safer just to walk them home," Winziger said to Dipper. "The condition that everyGnome is in, if they tried teleporting with one of us as a guide, there's no telling where they'd wind up."

"Um—you seem OK," Teek said.

Winziger shrugged. "I was in the banking business so long that I got out of the habit of carousing. They've made me the designated delver." When they looked puzzled, he sighed. "In the old days when we lived underground, one Gnome had to be alert all the time in case of the need to dig an escape tunnel. In average ground, we can do about thirty feet a minute, you know. Anyway, we live in the trees now, but somebody should still watch over the others when they—"

Shmebulock lurched up to Winziger and threw his arm around his shoulder. "Shmebbullock!" he shouted, while somehow slurring.

Winziger turned pink. "Yes, love you too, Shmebulock. Go lie down."

But instead, Shmebulock threw up. And then fell down, giggling."

Winziger made a face while taking off his suit jacket. "Nothing gets rainbows out," he said. "You kids better go now. This party's only going to get worse."

"Well—tell Jeff tomorrow that we had fun!" Mabel said.

They walked back to the golf cart as Wendy told the boys how she had chopped down the pine tree. "Wasn't really hard," she said. "It was leaning already 'cause it had heart rot. That's a fungus infection, not common in Oregon. Anyway, it didn't take much—hey, here's your carriage, Queen Mabel!"

"Mmph," said Mabel, who was kissing Teek while walking. Some difficult things take skill.

Dipper got behind the wheel, Wendy sat beside him, and Teek and Mabel took the back deck. "Hey, Sis," Dipper called, "you aren't going to get nauseated riding backward, are you?"

Mabel, who was prone to some forms of motion sickness, called back, "Uh-uhmmph."

"Let's go," Wendy said. "Teek and Mabel can worry about that."

The golf cart wouldn't have been street legal, what with a lack of seatbelts and weak headlights set a little low to the ground, but it sufficed for the trip back along the rough trail toward the Shack. The trees overarched it, so it was a little like driving through a tunnel.

They reached the steep hill, and everyone by Dipper got off and walked up. The motor might manage two, but without a good fast-rolling start, four passengers were too much for it. Dipper got to the top of the hill, everyone climbed aboard again, and as they drove the rest of the way back, Mabel, giggling, told Teek the story of how the Gnomes had kidnapped her—five of them—and how Dipper had come to the rescue.

"That's how the top got all cut up," Mabel said, pointing at the fabric roof of the cart. "That's why Soos patched it until it started to leak, and then he finally replaced it. We were fighting Gnomes. They're little, but they're tough!"

"I'm glad you didn't have to fight the foreign ones tonight," Teek said.

"Yeah, we didn't have a leaf-blower."

They got to the Shack, Dipper switched off the motor, and they climbed out. "Stay a little while?" Mabel asked Teek. "It's early."

"It's twelve-fifteen," Dipper pointed out.

"Well, that's early. Wee hours of the morning," Mabel said, walking two fingers up Teek's arm.

Teek said, "Seriously, I gotta go. If I come in after twelve-thirty, I still catch grief from Mom and Dad."

Mabel walked him to his car, gave him a couple of goodnight kisses, and then returned. Dipper and Wendy had already gone in and sat on the sofa. "Tripper just went out the back," Dipper told his sister. "Let him in before you go to bed."

"Yeah, yeah, I wouldn't let him stay out where a pterodactyl might carry him off," Mabel said, going to the kitchen. She came back in a few minutes with a glass of milk and a handful of cookies. "Is Wendy asleep?"

Dipper put a finger to his lips. Wendy lay against him on her side, her knees drawn up on the sofa, her cheek on Dipper's shoulder. She was smiling.

"I don't know how she can drop off like that," Mabel said, perching on the sofa arm beside Dipper. "Want a cookie?"

He took one, a chocolate-chip, Melody's specialty. "You guys had a tough time," he said. "She's worn out."

"Yeah, but they gave us this teleportation potion to drink. It's like Mabel Juice with added caffeine."

Tripper scratched at the door. Mabel ate her cookie, gulped her milk—the little dog was an expert moocher, but chocolate is bad for dogs—and then let him in. He leaped on the sofa, making Wendy start.

"Mm?" she asked. "Oh. Man, I'd better stagger off to bed. Hey, Dip, tomorrow's an off day for running, isn't it?"

"Yes," Dipper said. "We run again on Monday."

"OK. Hey, let me sleep in if I don't get up on my own."

"Sure," Dipper said.

Wendy leaned in for a kiss and then said, "See you guys tomorrow, sometime, probably!"

Dipper waved and yawned. Tripper, watching him, yawned. That's right, yawns are contagious, even with dogs. And Mabel caught it too. "Huff," she said when she finally closed her mouth. "On second thought, I guess the potion wore off or something. Now I'm sleepy, too. Don't wake me tomorrow—wait." She frowned. I'm kinda mixed-up . . . Monday, right?"

"Sunday," Dipper corrected. "Well, technically it's Sunday now, but you know what I mean."

"Oh, good, two days off work," Mabel murmured. "Dip, take my glass to the kitchen for me. Come on, Tripper! Time for good little puppies to be in bed."

Dipper, the last man standing, returned the glass to the kitchen, stood at the sink, and washed it. Then, also yawning, he climbed up the stairs to the attic.

_Just about one month left, and then it all ends. Bill leaves me. Wendy and I get married. And then the week after that, we gotta move into Married Housing and start college._

He was feeling happy but sad, too, at the same time. It was like coming into Christmas, excited but all the same knowing that on the day after, it would be another whole year.

But there was a lot to look forward to. Dipper hurriedly brushed his teeth, then took off his shoes, jeans, and socks and, just in his underwear—black boxer briefs nowadays, he'd graduated from tighty-whities—he turned off the lantern and fell into bed and some time later, into one of those naughty-but-nice dreams.

* * *

_He and Wendy lay in bed, no covers over them. No clothes on them, either. They pressed tight together, and they embraced, and he loved every smooth warm inch of her, every sweet and woodsy scent of her. His lips pressed against her throat felt the throbbing of her pulse, growing faster and more urgent._

_She rolled onto him, and then they were like one, hearing each other's unspoken thoughts, feeling each other's sensations. He felt her arch her back and she said aloud, "Yeah, right there . . . just like that!"_

And he woke up and felt her soft weight atop him. It was just like his dream, but—same-y but different-y.

For one thing, they both were clothed, for a certain definition of clothing.

However, he was hugging her, and his arms and hands were underneath her nightshirt, on her bare back. She wasn't wearing a bra.

"Wendy?" he whispered.

He got a telepathic jolt of shock. "Dipper?" _What am I doing on top of you? How'd I get here?_

—_I don't know! I didn't hear you come in! I was asleep—dreaming, uh . . .._

She wriggled a little. _Yeah, of this, I get that. Hold still, I'm gonna roll toward the wall._

Thumping the wall, she did so. "Umph." _Dipper, I was dreaming about you, too. I think—I think I must've teleported in my sleep! I didn't think we could do it without holding a Gnome's hand, but—_

—_I'm glad you teleported to me instead of out in the woods or someplace._

_Yeah. Poor Dip! You were having a real hot dream, I can tell._

—_Sorry._

_Don't be. It's not like I hate it! Next time throw in a hot tub and it'll be perfect. Now I'm kinda wound up too. Little mental make-out?_

—_You read my mind._

Kissing, touching, they sent each other feelings, and it ended well for both of them, leaving them happy and holding each other and breathing hard and coming down that last long hill of the coaster. "Whoo, I needed that!" Wendy said. "Just another month, Dip! We're gonna hold out against, you know, physically doing the deed, right?"

"Uh-huh," Dipper said. "But I don't know how much better it can be than what we have now."

"You just wait," Wendy said. "I'll show you!"

"I think you might kill me," Dipper told her.

"Well—what time is it? Half-past three! I better slip back downstairs, Dip. Love you."

They kissed, and he said, "I love you too."

"Want me to help you make up the bed? We kinda rumpled it up."

"No, that can wait."

Wendy had to roll back across Dipper—she took her time—and then she stood up in the dark. "Turn on the lantern for me."

Dipper reached for it, but his phone went off—just the factory-setting ring tone, nobody he knew.

Wendy glanced at the screen. "Hey, that's my aunt Sallie's number! See what's wrong!"

Right, right. Any phone call coming in past three in the morning will not be good news. Dipper picked up the phone. "Hello? This is Dipper—"

"Sorry to wake you, young man," said Aunt Sallie, sounding as alert and crisp as she would have been at noon. "But I think you need to drive up here and take your sister home. And bring her some clothes!"

* * *

They took Wendy's car, Dipper riding shotgun. They'd put the shopping bag with Mabel's underwear, jeans, tee shirt, and socks and sneakers in the back seat. Dipper said, "Your aunt says she heard someone knocking on the door. She went down with a shotgun—"

"She inherited that from my granddad," Wendy said. "I wonder if she's ever once fired it."

"Anyway, Mabel was standing there, shivering, in her sleep shirt and nothing else. She went to sleep in her room and woke up in Sallie's barn between Widdles and Waddles. She doesn't remember how she got there."

"Crazy teleportation," Wendy said. "Boosh!"

They'd taken the time to fill two coffee mugs, and Wendy sipped occasionally from hers. Now Dipper felt wide awake, though.

They got to Sallie's around four in the morning—an overcast Sunday morning, with a low layer of clouds faintly orange with reflected ground light. Sallie let them in and said, "She seems kind of confused. By the way, she's already had breakfast."

Mabel, who sat on the living-room sofa wearing a man's shirt that hung down below her knees, looked sheepish. "I was just dreaming of being twelve and having Waddles warm against me, and then I woke up and I was between them. They were glad to see me, but—well, I'll just say I took a shower! And I need to wash my sleep shirt when we get home."

"I put her in one of my husband's old shirts," Sallie said. "Did you bring her an outfit?"

"Right here," Dipper said, handing the shopping bag to Mabel.

"Be right back." Mabel trotted barefoot to the kitchen.

Sallie said, "I s'pose this is some of the Gravity Falls weirdness that Danny talks about all the time."

"Yep," Wendy said. "It's a teleportation deal."

"Like on _Star Trek,_ huh?" Sallie asked.

"But without the sparkles," Wendy confirmed.

"Too bad. That girl loves her sparklies."

Mabel came back, dressed, with her sleep shirt in the shopping bag. "Thanks, Mrs. Corduroy."

"I keep telling you, call me Sallie. Land sakes, girl, as many times as you've helped out my brother and his brood, this is nothing. Well, it's about getting-up time on a farm anyways, so you kids skedaddle, and I'll go attend to the feeding and the milking."

Mabel had been spooked. She asked if she could sit in the front seat of the Dodge Dart—bench seat, enough room, but the one in the middle only had a seat belt, not a lap-strap. She said that was OK, and she squeezed between Wendy and Dipper. "Wendy," she said, "you drank that stuff, too. I think we better stay awake until the sun's up and the effect ends, OK? This was way disorienting."

"You should've dreamed of Teek, not Waddles," Wendy said.

"Yeah, I should've—wait. Uh, you didn't dream about Brobro here, did you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dipper asked.

"Um—nothing," Mabel said. "But you two are so calm about this. It's not like, woo, there's this big mystery I gotta solve! You two seem so, um . . .."

"Comfortable," Wendy suggested.

"Placid?" Dipper asked.

"I was gonna say _sated," _Mabel said. "But I'm not even gonna ask!"

"I'll still wear white to the wedding," Wendy said.

And that made Mabel so inquisitive she could hardly stand it.

However, neither Dipper nor Wendy enlightened her.

And they reached the Shack again just before five A.M. As they got out of the car, Wendy said, "Sun'll be up in an hour. Why don't we just wait until then?"

"Let's have breakfast," Mabel said.

"You had breakfast," Dipper pointed out. "Sallie told us."

"Then make it brunch, doy! We'll make omelets and stuff and that'll take a while. Then we'll come outside and eat at one of the picnic tables—"

"Should be enough light by then," Wendy said. "Or if not, I'll turn on the parking-lot lights."

"Yeah, and we'll have an Alfred Neuman brunch—now, wait, that's wrong, It's Alfred something—"

"_Al fresco_?" Dipper guessed.

"Go with that. We'll eat and have coffee and watch the sun rise."

That's what they did. Enough dawn light glowed in the sky so they didn't need the parking-lot light, and as they ate the east grew bright, and the sun peeked up, and Mabel immediately said, "I'm over it. I can tell. Did you feel it, Wendy?"

"I don't feel any different," Wendy said.

"Yeah, well I do," Mabel insisted. "I just felt sort of down all at once and real tired."

"I think I'd better call Jeff," Dipper said, taking out his phone. "You guys need to be sure."

"Hang on, Dip," Wendy said. "Whoosh. No, Mabel's right, it just left me, too. Jeff nailed it, the potion's effect ended at sunrise, 'cept I drank the stuff a little later than Mabes did."

Mabel got to her feet, staggering. "Gotta go back to bed," she muttered.

"Me, too," Wendy said. "Don't wake us up anytime soon, Dip."

"What if you—teleport again in your sleep?"

"That's a point," Wendy agreed. "Hm. Let me take Mabel's old bed?"

"If you want to," Dipper told her.

"OK, I'll nap in my shirt and jeans. And I'll keep my phone with me in case it happens again, but I'm sure it won't. You . . . " she yawned. "You just . . . um, stay up there with me and . . . um, watch over me, OK?"

Dipper stopped first to make sure Mabel had her phone—she did, stuck in her jeans pocket, though she was already asleep. Dipper ruffled Tripper's ears. "Watch over her, boy."

And then he went up to his own room, where Wendy already lay stretched out on her stomach, asleep, head on the pillow, a faint smile showing, her lips pursing a little when she exhaled. Dipper pulled a chair up beside the bed. He had a book to read—_Monsters and Myths of the Pacific Northwest, _by Aurelius Rockbridge—but with his free hand he gently took Wendy's and held it.

She would sleep like that for hours. And he would not leave her side until she woke again, rested and feeling better. And he intended to be there for her then, and for the rest of their lives.

* * *

The End


	6. Chapter 6

**Epilogue: Translations**

* * *

Author's note: OK, while the Francophones were rit-ing it up over the horrible French, some of the other readers were trying to puzzle out what I thought the characters were saying. And the Gnomish gave other people problems, so here's a helpful guide.

**Chapter 3:** The amorous French couple on the dome of the Pantheon (you really can get a great view of Paris from there) said:

**He: **_Est-ce que je viens de voir deux reines et un ornement de pelouse là-bas_? (Did I just see two queens and a lawn ornament over there?)

**She: **_"Je n'ai rien vu. Allons à l'hôtel. Je veux faire l'amour passionné. _(I didn't see anything. Let's go to the hotel. I want to make passionate love with you.)

**He: **_"Oui ma chérie. À quelle heure votre mari reviendra-t-il?" _(Yes, my darling. When does your husband return?"

_**She: **_"_Dans une heure ou un peu plus_." (In an hour, more or less.)

**He**: "_Merde! Dépêchons-nous!" _(Crap! Let's hurry!)

* * *

_**Chapter 4:**_ Alban Gnomes insist they are the original and oldest Gnome settlement on Earth. So does every other Gnome settlement in Europe and Asia. The Alban Gnomes are very conservative socially and obey lots of archaic Gnome folkways and traditions that the Gravity Falls Gnomes have either forgotten or just laugh about.

However, some Gnome _askritori _(scribes, scholars) always keep the old language alive, or at least dormant, sort of like Latin. Nobody much speaks it, but a good many can speak it if pressed. It is also the lingua franca for all Gnomes—if a Gravity Falls Gnome runs into a Japanese Gnome, they can converse, after a fashion, if they both know Old Gnomish. Push comes to shove, they can write it—all Gnomes can do runes.

The Alban Gnomes tunnel beneath an area of Scotland. In everyday parlance, they speak English, but the way the Glaswegians do. That means they can make themselves understood if they talk to a native of Glasgow, but not to anyone else in the U.K. or North America. And the Gnomes can't follow more than a couple of words from a paragraph of perfectly-spoken Received English from a BBC newsreader, so to them American English is Greek.

Except for a few inevitable differences in pronunciation, though, Jeff could understand them perfectly well and they could understand him, with minor puzzlements. Imagine John Wayne conversing with Inspector Clouseau and you'd get the idea of the difficulties each side encountered. That said, here is a translation for the Gnomish passages in this chapter:

**Fandolskurt:** _"Ke naibi est-ast?"_ (Who is that? – literally, what is that? European Gnomes rarely ever have a non-Gnomish queen.)

**Jeff:**_ "Biztiao unrath, acest est Reinja nust, Mabel, e si ocrutoriea, Wendy!"_ ("Honored strangers, this is our Queen, Mabel, and her chief guard, Wendy!" – Jeff knew what a Lady in Waiting was, roughly, but because of Wendy's rangy build and copper-red hair, he called her a strong or chief guard. Traditionally, any Gnome with red hair was destined for the Gnome Armed Services.)

**Mabel:** _"Binati vinit, aspechi!" _(As Granny Gypsum almost said, "Be welcome, guests!")

**Fandolskurt: **_"__Di'l inati Reinja d'turturo nomitor, salus bentru farit nus'ri miki!"_ ("From the great (or high) Queen of all Gnomes, we bring greetings to our inferior kin!" Tact isn't high on the Gnome list of virtues.)

**Mabel:**_ "Reinja-ti est moltimata!" _("Thy Queen is pleased!" The word "thy" is familiar and ambiguous; as Steve observed, it could either mean "I'm pleased" or, by implication, "Your own Queen is pleased by you." This is known as diplomacy.)

**Fandolskurt:**_ "Saartim giariti. Pechinka-ni Reinja ta."_ ("We are satisfied. Present us to your Queen." The pronoun "ta" indicates a respectful attitude. If they wanted to continue belittling the Gravity Falls Gnomes, he would have used "ti" instead.)

**Jeff:**_ "Spon-mi nomile e mochi." _("Speak to me your name each." It's sort of hard to convey, because English depends on word placement—"The king slew the bishop" is quite different to "The bishop slew the king," though in Old English the words could come in any order and mean just one thing. The same is true for Gnomish. Jeff blundered a little because of his guess at word choice, but his meaning to the visitors was pretty much "Tell me the name of each one of you." No harm, no foul.)

**Jeff:**_ "__Fandolskurt, va salvati en nomilez nomitori__ Gravity Falls." _(Pretty much what it says on the tin; Jeff just translated, nearly word for word, what Mabel said: "Fandolskurt. We greet you on behalf of the Gravity Falls Gnomes." _Salvati i_s a verb, but one with a familiar, friendly implication.)

Nomnotz:_ "Femja ominaska! Es-ti o virtis Reinja?"_ (This is more insulting than Steve's literal translation. Femja does mean "female," but it's condescending, especially when spoken to a Queen. Something like, "Little human girl! Are you a true Queen?" The "ti" is insulting, too, being the form of "you" a Gnome would use for a child, fool, or prisoner, not a social superior.)

**Mabel:**_ "Siga! Ke kirza, skurta?"_ (Steve's translation is literally accurate, but there are overtones: "Sure thing! What did you stupidly believe, runt?" would convey the mood a little better.)

_**Mabel:** "Inkip!"_ ("Start!" or "Begin!" or "Go!" It's basically how a Gnome would order someone to shake a leg. It's roughly related to the English word inception.)

**Nomnotz:**_ "Rakhes! Ar pataskinig-asi o nomilis sutka!" _(Jeff's translation is entirely accurate. However, it's significant that Nomnotz used the pronoun "ar." If he'd patronized Wendy, he would have used "ir" instead—however, he used the one he'd use for a true queen or female warrior. He was impressed by Wendy.)

**Jeff: **_"Akum kempiata Reinjask nustri vava lupta be tuta dintroda! Kastijatores optin averta be kar-si dorsk. Se atonk, piadrask mortji." _("Now, weaklings, our Queen will battle you in melee, she against you all. The side that wins prospers, the losers will die." Jeff's accent and word placement were a little bit off, but his meaning came through loud and clear. To a Gnome, an axe-bearing foe is diplomacy carried on by more energetic means.)

**Fandolskurt: **_"Li rezbekta Reinjua-ti. Cha-ne inkiern trepurli chi apo trebul, cha ne diskbartins. Vam snemi dokomes." _("We respect your Queen. Let us begin and conclude our business as friends, and then we must leave for home." This time the pronoun "ti" is used in the familiar sense: Reinja-ti is roughly "Queen of our friends." Lots of subtlety to Gnomish.)

**Mabel:**_ "Azkase fi!" _("Let it be done!" But Jeff's term is more informal than Queenly: "Let's do it!" Coming from a Queen, it shows that she accepts the familiarity and implied kinship between the two groups of Gnomes.)

The term for "equality" is hard to translate into Gnomish. Jeff's effort was "on nomio, sa sa nomitori," which means "one Gnome is the same as all other Gnomes." It's worth noting that the Alban Gnomes went home with the message, and that for a long time afterward their scholars pondered and philosophized about the meaning. It became a popular slogan among younger Gnomes. Indirectly, Mabel was responsible for the ending of a thousands-of-years-old custom among the Alban Gnomes: They abolished slavery in their society.


End file.
